


Persephone:Steal Away

by peoriapeoria



Series: Persephone and the Underworld [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaret phrased her Oaths differently, and Justin had no opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persephone:Steal Away

One couldn't grow up in the Nevernever. Mortals wouldn't age there, but there were ways around that, ways that Leannsiddhe knew and used. She let him out of the Nevernever, into mortal lands. His mother had been human, his father too, but they had both died long ago.

He'd killed his mother. She had died in childbirth. He'd asked Leannsiddhe why she hadn't saved his mother. Her answers never satisfied, and he didn't ask her three times. His father he remembered, vaguely; that was the other thing about the Nevernever, mortals that spent too much time there forgot themselves. His father had been a magician. Not a wizard, his father had been a magician, an entertainer, they'd traveled a lot.

Leanansidhe had come for him when his father died. He'd been six. He'd stayed six for more than a year, before Leanansidhe realized that that wasn't mete. While one couldn't age in the Nevernever, one could learn. One of the things he learned was that time flowed differently there. It wasn't uniform. It didn't matter, not really. There was nothing for him in the mortal world. Well, except magic, his dad's kind. His dewdrop faeries were all critics, so he was more than skilled enough to perform in the park.

John Marcone hadn't always gone by that name. He was driven, ruthless and precise. Chicago was his in every way that mattered. The corrupt politicians, cops, inspectors all danced his tune, he dealt out harsh justice to his criminal contractors, and he kept the blood of innocents from running in the streets and parks.

And then there was Harry. Enigmatic Harry, who lived nowhere. He was all arm and leg, head and shoulders taller than most, his dark hair pulled back into a tail. All his magician's kit came out of a backpack decorated in cloth flowers, braid and sequins.

Twenty-four, thank Mary and the apostles that Harry was twenty-four. He was an orphan, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, no known address. He ate a lot of vender food, bought with the proceeds of his magic shows. John was a fan of him eating ice cream cones. Want was too short a word for John's obsession with the young man.

Perhaps having Harry bundled into his car wasn't the best plan. It was a sudden thunderstorm, the crowd was scattering, and Harry was just standing getting soaked. He was a sodden mess puddling on the leather. Their eyes met.

"What?" John lifted his hand, indecision holding it between bringing Harry's mouth back and touching his own lips.

"It won't happen again. You stopped. Only happens the once."

"You kissed me better?" John had at first thought Harry was speaking of the kiss, and it not happening again was out of the question.

"We're here." Harry got out of the car and walked to the door of John's mansion. John followed under the umbrella his driver provided. A maid led Harry off to a hot shower. John went to change.

Harry in just a robe was, John wanted Harry draped across his bed, needed to press him against a wall. Harry dropped the robe from his shoulders. "Just Do It."

John couldn't breathe, so much skin, Harry's cock slightly curved. John wasn't a good man. He kissed Harry, possessed his mouth, stroked his skin, squeezed his cock. John licked his way down, sat on the coffee table and pulled Harry to him. He teased and took, sucking Harry in, blowing his mind.

"Oh."

John swept Harry from his feet before he could stumble. Carried him to bed, lay him out, stripped, wrapped Harry's long fingers around him and came in stripes across Harry. He lay down beside him. Harry's hand pressed against his chest. Fingers pinched his nipples. Slick fingers rubbed him, nails scratched him lightly, tongue licked him, John tasted himself on Harry's kiss. His hands were brought to Harry's ass.

"Harry!" John felt one slick finger pressed inside Harry and hit the sweet spot, then a second. "Not so fast." Harry was a virgin, John knew this, somehow that incident in the car imparted that. He spread his fingers slowly. "You haven't touched yourself." Harry leaned down and kissed him. Moved and pressed a nipple to John's lips.

"Now!"

John found his hand pulled away and Harry sank onto him. "No, no, condom, lift up."

"It's okay."

It was not okay. John was a killer, he had sex, his circle was high risk personified. "Harry, you have to stop."

"I wouldn't catch anything. And you're not." He kissed John, who stopped protesting. And rocked Harry's world a second time.

John woke up with Harry sprawled over him. It was something he'd like to get used to, he thought as he got up. He called down to the kitchen to have dinner set for them. Harry's clothes were clean and dry. "Shower, then we can eat." Harry let himself be pulled from the bed.

John had perfected giving away no reaction. People would paint their own expectations on the absence, providing him with a very able lie-detector. Harry's manner at table tested this ability, as did the sheer amount of food he packed away and the speed he thought necessary. He assembled portions of plans that could be combined once more information was available. That was another of his skills that had allowed a simple button man take over Chicago.

He noticed when Harry stopped scarfing food like a Dickensonian character, judging it not as a sign of nearing satiety but reassessed situational manners. He nodded at the maid to bring more food. John believed that virtue shouldn't be its own punishment.

He would have to find where Harry was staying. Moving him into the mansion would be premature, and lead to unwanted attention being placed on Harry. There was also the matter of Harry learning things that he shouldn't.

Harry smiled, pleased and intrigued, and perhaps a little wanton. John knew what he wanted, something that had been too ill-advised since he decided to wrest Chicago from Vargassi. He led them back upstairs with intermittent kissing and groping. He lay siege to Harry, unbuttoning his jeans. John pulled away and leaned against the wall with one arm, fingering himself slick with his other hand.

"Stars and bells."

John turned, still working himself open. This would probably be fast. "Lube up."

It wasn't fast. Harry slid into him so slowly John hardly noticed him pulling back and sliding back in, it felt like one impossibly long glide. Harry's hands played over him, somehow tuning him to this slow rocking ride. Pinched, nudged, tapped outside and in, nibbled on his neck, nails tracing his inner thigh, soft sounds of breath and sweat slicked skin.

Harry took him apart, gradually building steam such that forever became now on a dime. They slumped to the floor utterly spent, only to find sporadic reserves. John had missed getting fucked and this was so past anything he'd had before.

John had woken alone, and no one saw Harry leave. Harry wasn't in the park, any of the parks, he wasn't anywhere in Chicago by John's sources and his resources were wide-reaching. He conducted business with a will.

Harry showed up in the park and it was all John could do to let him finish his busk. John walked towards him as the crowd dispersed. Harry's smile was like the sun. "Hi."

"Want to get a bite?"

"Bitten."

John was two seconds off his game, his deflowered virgin sultry. He wanted assurances Harry hadn't been sleeping around. He clasped a hand around Harry's elbow and walked for his car. Inside, Harry was over him like a spring-loaded octopus.

"Where have you been?"

Harry looked away, and John had to resist wrenching him back eye to eye.

"My goodmother was unhappy. She'd had plans. I missed you."

"Goodmother." John wanted to wrap Harry in cotton, those unspecified plans filled him with dread.

"You will sport with me, yes?"

"Am I the only one you've sported with?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

John believed him and he'd thought that long taken from him. He pulled Harry to him and started on his request. John was aching when they got to the safe house, and pushed Harry to his knees, sitting before him. It could have been faked the sweet inexperience as Harry touched his tongue to John's crown, applied lips to him, let John train him. It would take an artist of the finest forgery. He came without warning, without giving warning, inexorable.

He pulled Harry up to him, kissing him, sucking out his own spunk Harry hadn't had time to totally swallow. John got into Harry's pants and jacked him off, splattering them both. He stripped them, pulled them into the full bed and licked everything that wasn't too sensitive twice. His, Harry was his.

John was hard again. He'd lost himself in Harry, wanted to lose it in Harry. He got the lube, looked at the condoms and recklessly left them in the drawer. He slid in hard, pulling Harry's legs over his shoulders, pressing down until his knees were at his ears, pounding in relentlessly. Harry was hard. John tried to hold off until Harry popped. He failed.

Dozed. Made good sucking Harry so sweetly, asked him to stay for breakfast. Got Harry's assent, assent, assent. There was bacon in the morning.

Again Harry disappeared. John closed down the Velvet Room in his search for Harry, Bianca wasn't best pleased, vowed to return over John's dead body. He hired Monoc Securities. He wasn't sure he liked how Ms Gard looked at Hendricks. The FBI tried to set him up, not to take a fall, but to have his throat ripped out. And his guts, lungs and heart.

He survived, they didn't.

Harry was at the ice rink. "Harry."

"Yes."

John made them cocoa and grilled cheese sandwiches before taking Harry to bed. Made sweet love to him, guided him onto his knees and rocked into him. After, Harry took his mouth just as sweet and givingly possessive.

Harry was still in his bed in the morning. John fingered Harry's hard cock too gently. "This mine?"

Harry bit his lip. John got the lube, anointed Harry and climbed on. Harry surprised him, gripping him hard at the base. John pounded down his prostate onto Harry trying to come desperately.

Harry let go. John came, came, came.

No longer did Harry disappear to the Nevernever and his goodmother. He had mortal ties now, spells knotted in sex and love. Harry was magician and wizard, and had stolen himself, slipping sideways from bargains made without him, of him, with the Erlking. His goodmother had wished him bound and bound he'd be, and in so doing Harry was free.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was a bit closer to the myth, but this was where my muse took things.


End file.
